Decked
by Cadence
Summary: Clone War action, Jedi snark. Anakin's Aethersprite squadron faces dangerous battles, ridiculous tactics, and the requisite accusations of treason.
1. Newbies

  
There was a scuff of black rubber next to Tellan's booted toe – the right shade and width to have been a product of his own restlessness. It was nearly directly beneath the bowed bolt connecting the prefab table to the bulkhead. Perhaps an officer of less fastidious concern with the shine of his boots had bent it, trying to work the table loose in a fit of boredom.  
  
A state that Tellan was quickly becoming acquainted with.  
  
More than a year at war had run the shipboard sterility of the fleet into shabby – if not yet comfortable – familiarity. Officers of Tellan's breed had quickly been decanted from the ramshackle schools and hastily built academies with frightening alacrity from Coruscant, Bothawui, Corellia and too many more Core systems to name. After all, clones could not command.  
  
Yet in the interim, while the skeleton of a military was built from peacekeeping Jedi, docile clones, and conniving Senators, there had been a great deal of waiting. Tellan not had graduated in the first class, nor the last, but seemingly in the middle. In a room like this, waiting beside a comrade like the officer he shared the table with, examining the prefab walls and table and tile and shoes he wore.   
  
Ignoring the importance of the other objects of his scrutiny, Tellan turned his attention to his comrade. A woman. She was fair and pretty and confident looking – enough so to drive his senses into momentary unreality. In these times, female officers were for some reason becoming a scarcity in the gradual way that he rarely noticed but in the moments where he looked.  
  
In the barracks, before his first mission he'd heard pilots joking that "not looking" was quickly becoming a marketable skill. He didn't quite know what to make of that, perhaps because he wasn't thinking about it. It occurred to him that he would make a very capable officer.  
  
The girl – the female officer – beside him tapped her nails on the table. She cast him a sidelong glance, non-regulation length hair falling to frame her face.  
  
"So, what are you in for?"  
  
Tellan nearly started. He immediately chastised himself.  
  
Granting himself a slender smile, he responded, "Newly requisitioned lieutenant, tagged for flight duty."  
  
She raised an eyebrow.  
  
Unsure what she was waiting for, he added, "Tellan Issara of the Lower Equatorial Prefecture, Coruscant."   
  
The female officer took another pause, looking him over. Then she grinned and extended her hand, "Hurana Denalt, Lieutenant Junior Grade from Dantooine via the glorious and very secure Coruscant Officer's Academy."  
  
He relaxed, "Then we must have schooled together. Tell me --"  
  
There was a loud expulsion of air as motors heaved the door up and then down, effectively interrupting Tellan. Between the bursts of noise, Commander Kina had entered. He was a sharp man who looked worn by his duties.  
  
Both Tellan and Lieutenant Denalt stood, snapping to attention. Tellan's chair tottered slightly from the effort.  
  
Commander Kina took no notice of them, eyes fixed on his data pad. Curiously, he waved his free hand correctly in Tellan's direction.  
  
"Lieutenant, this is an impressive service record. Four battle zones in two months. You are already an ace, correct?"  
  
Gazing at another scuff, incongruously in his line of sight, Tellan nodded, "Yessir."  
  
The Commander made note of something. Gesturing at Lieutenant Denalt, he continued, "After consideration, I suppose that you, Lieutenant, have made the most of a bad situation."  
  
Lieutenant Denalt seemed to grit her evenly spaced teeth, "That is in the past, sir. The distant past."  
  
"Of course. In that case, I welcome you both to the Queen of Air," he said dryly.  
  
Again Commander Kina tapped his data pad. Turning smartly, he opened the door. The Lieutenants strode after him; two pairs of eyes warily watched the underside of door.  
  
A lone clonetrooper waited in the corridor.  
  
"I assume that your possessions have already been delivered to the barracks." They nodded. "Private, show the Lieutenants to their squadron. I believe they are in the lounge?"  
  
Neither Tellan, nor Lieutenant Denalt, nor the trooper responded. Commander Kina exited directly, taking the lift upward.   
  
"This way," said the clonetrooper, heading away from the lift.  
  
They walked past troopers in white, officers in gray, and mouse droids in black. They walked past walls and doors of gray to arrive at another nondescript door, gray.  
  
"Lounge Alpha-2-6, designated for use by officers." The trooper stood silently by the door.  
  
Lieutenant Denalt reached out to finger the lights and switches on the door control panel. She tilted her head to the side, "Private, you are dismissed."  
  
Boots sounded on durasteel flooring. Lieutenant Denalt opened the door.  
  
Inside, the standard issue assortment of pilots played games, watched holovids, slept, and cheated egregiously at sabacc. No discernable change in their activities occurred as Tellan and Lieutenant Denalt entered. However after a few moments, their continued silent, uncomfortable presence drew the eyes of their fellows with undeniable magnetic appeal.  
  
One of the sabacc players - a thin, squarely framed young man – waved his hand at them in consideration; the other players, a female Bothan and a very pale man, snuck glances at his cards as he did so.  
  
"Interesting meeting you here. Hope you're Sabres. We don't tolerate any other cards around here."  
  
A dark haired girl, mostly obscured by the couch she had sprawled on to channel surf the holovid, spoke up in a Core accented voice, "That's right, that is. It's our lounge. We made a flag and everything."  
  
The new Lieutenants raised their eyes to the wall. On it hung an enthusiastically painted banner, decorated with a badly outlined sword and blue stripes that trailed enthusiasm onto the military gray wall.   
  
"It's very nice." Tellan complimented. "That's a . . . saber?"  
  
The gazes fixed on them hardened. In her evident startlement, Lieutenant Denalt accidentally stepped on his foot. Hard.  
  
"It's a lightsaber," replied the channel surfer.   
  
"Haven't met the Commander yet, have you?" A new voice chimed in.   
  
Tellan and Lieutenant Denalt simultaneously bent at the waist, looking for the source of the voice. It came from kneecap level. A Duro, who looked to be relaxing in a state somewhere between a trance and death, had taken a chair into an extreme recline.  
  
He spoke again, blue face flexing to produce stuffy sounding words, "Are you sure you are in the right place?"  
  
The dark haired card player replied, "Can't be if they don't know the Commander."  
  
The pale card player tapped the table in exasperation. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"His Lordship is brilliant, you know," said the channel surfer. "Saved my life. Flies more demon than man. Heart of storm, though, poor bastard."  
  
The card players, save the pale man, nodded solemnly. Other scattered about echoed the motion.  
  
"Our Knight has known nothing but hardship," she continued. "All he may ever know . . ."  
  
"Trapped between two worlds, he struggles between the duty he has known as a Jedi and the glory of the Navy uniform – never to be of either and never to know joy," a new voice with an un-placable accent, flat with sarcasm picked up the Core pilot's oration.  
  
Leaning against the doorframe, which had opened with mysterious quiet, stood a tall, lanky figure. His uniform was crisp, his hair neat, his lightsaber glinted silver from his belt. His jaw was set, his expression hard.  
  
He looked over both Tellan and Lieutenant Denalt stonily.  
  
Then, with a bright, sarcastic smile, he concluded his speech, "Woe is me."  
  
"Commander!" "Milord!" "Master!" A general shout of greeting, in various rotations of titles, filled the air.  
  
"I'm glad to see you, too." He paused appropriately for the faux-bashful "aww" and then asked, "Can I assume you're through breaking in the newbies?"  
  
The three primary co-conspirators of the breaking in process - the Duro, the channel surfer, and the card player – exchanged a look. The card player suddenly pointed towards the porthole.  
  
"Hey! What's that?"  
  
Gamely, the Lieutenants looked to the porthole. The other ships in their battle group drifted against the starscape.  
  
The squadron burst out laughing. Wiping his eyes, the card player said, "_Now_, we're done."  
  
The Commander smiled tiredly, "Right. You are all very cute. Well, those of you who are actually here." He looked to the Bothan, "Darius? Savann? Raaf?"  
  
"Got a girl. Got a boy. Got tired," responded the Bothan, ticking off fingers.  
  
"Of course. Now, leave."  
  
"Aw, you're not going to introduce us?" groused the card player, even as he and the rest of the room gathered themselves up and obeyed.  
  
As they filed out, the channel surfer hung back. She gazed up at the Commander, "You okay?"  
  
He ran his right hand, gloved, over his face, "I'm fine. I just hate meetings."  
  
"And authorities figures."  
  
"And authorities figures. Except when they're me. Now go."  
  
She grinned, squeezing his arm briefly, and left.  
  
The Commander straightened, shaking off both his weariness and the warmth he had shown for his squadron.   
  
His voice descended into professional drollery, "As you might have guessed, I am Commander Anakin Skywalker. You have been assigned to the prestigious Sabre Squadron because you are the best. It's my job to keep you from being bent, spindled, or mutilated. Funny as that would be."  
  
Commander Skywalker rested his hands on his hips, coming to stand before Tellan. He dropped his flat tone, and continued, "Lieutenant Issara, you came highly recommended. I know that you have a sparkling record. Your previous commander requested the transfer because he believed it would be a good step for your career, correct?'  
  
Tellan nodded, "Yessir."  
  
Commander Skywalker's eyes flashed over him and then he moved to stand before Lieutenant Denalt. A slight smile tugged at his lips, "Hurana. I never thought I'd see you again."  
  
"Nor I you, sir," responded Lieutenant Denalt warily.  
  
"Although, I should probably amend that. I requested you, after all."  
  
"I -- Sir?"  
  
Commander Skywalker smiled, "I understand that with your record it was inevitable that you would run into trouble with your squadrons. Since your record is my fault, to a degree, I decided to take responsibility."  
  
"Sir, how is my record your fault?" asked Lieutenant Denalt; she looked overwhelmed.  
  
"I arrested you."  
  
"Sir, I did try to kill you."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas, copyright Lucasfilm Ltd. Not for sale, no copyright infringement intended.   
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Strategy

  
Fyvve awoke at an appropriately early hour to find her new roommate dressed, coifed, and examining the placement of her belongings. She blinked groggily at the perky woman and patted down her typical case of bed-fur. The memory of the woman's induction into the Sabres - admittedly without a proper introduction to the squadron as a whole - guiding her to their now mutual quarters, and of chatting idly with her before falling prey to the day's exhaustion quickly returned to Fyvve.  
  
However, this did not fully explain why the woman, Hurana Denalt, was now boxing her as hands in mimicry of a camera to suggest the positioning of her _Rage Against the Makaneek _poster on the porthole vis a vis the door.  
  
"That would really look best on the closet."  
  
Hurana pivoted on her be-socked heel, grinning, "You're awake! May I? That's really more toward your half."  
  
Fyvve swung herself upright, planting her feet on the cold floor, "I am, indeed, and I'm certainly already sharing the inside of the closet."  
  
Hurana's grin widened and she nodded. As she removed the poster from the porthole, Fyvve stretched. Her muscles awakened, she crowded in next to Hurana, who was re-hanging the poster, and retrieved a fresh uniform from the closet. Then she adjourned herself to the 'fresher.   
  
Once bathed and dressed, she regarded herself in the mirror. Random shuffling sounds from her quarters penetrated the door. She watched as her fur rippled in irritation.   
Picking up her brush, Fyvve girded herself.  
  
"So you like Naboo protest music?" she called through the door.  
  
The clatter stopped. "Huh? Oh yeah, _Makaneek_. Actually, I may be an oddball on them, but I appreciate their spirit more than their music."  
  
Fyvve tugged at a nasty snarl in her mane. "Really? I never had much opportunity to hear them."  
  
A muffled chuckle sounded from the quarter's side of the door. "True. I never did hear of them touring on Bothawui."  
  
Fyvve glared at her reflection and threw down the brush in surrender. Straightening her uniform one last time, she keyed the door. Hurana was sitting cross-legged, with her back resting against the closet facing the 'fresher door.  
  
Tilting her head up to meet Fyvve's eyes, Hurana added, "You have a slight home world accent."  
  
Fyvve nodded approvingly, "Very good. I grew up in the capital city, in fact."  
  
There was a long moment of silence. Feeling the conversation floundering, Hurana reached for the original thread, "So how'd you hear about _Makaneek_?"  
  
"Savann. She's Naboo and she always finds a reason to get her disks into the lounge music system. The Commander puts up with it for some reason. You should see Emitai's face --" Fyvve broke off.  
  
"Why? Where's Emitai from?"  
  
Fyvve smiled to herself, "I'm starting to see the Commander's wisdom in refusing to introduce you to people who aren't present." Hurana looked at her questioningly. "It'll be easier for you to get to know them if they aren't abstractions and are instead staring you in the face, cruelly scrutinizing your every mannerism."  
  
Fyvve pulled Hurana to her feet, "They should be at breakfast about now, come on."  
  
Hurana swallowed anxiously, "Right."  
  
The commissary was several decks up, placed reasonably far from the bridge to ensure the dining safety of the officers, but close enough that a post-meal dash to one's post would not be too strenuous. It was a blocky, utilitarian space whose primary virtue was the vast bank of transparisteel windows lining the port side.   
  
As Fyvve and Hurana entered, they were afforded a spectacular view of a nearby sun flaring in eclipse behind a gas giant. The nearly insignificant slivers that composed the three other ships in their battle group glinted in the white-orange haze.  
  
Fyvve smiled tightly to herself as she spotted the full array of Sabres situated at their regular table. The purpose of introducing Hurana to everyone would have been somewhat defeated if they had chosen uncharacteristically to miss breakfast. If only one thing could be counted on, it was that where there was food, there were Sabres.  
  
A pair of seats had been saved for them, at the corner and end of the table. Fyvve took the corner seat as both Elenia and Emitai happily waved Hurana to the end chair – she plonked down next Tellan, squeezing into the now-tight space. Tellan watched as she did so, before turning to look uneasily at the gathered pilots. His roommate had clearly 'prepped' him.  
  
"Shouldn't we wait for the Commander?" he asked.  
  
Emitai pretended to think, "Maybe we should. You don't think he could be in -- "  
  
"The hanger," chorused the pilots back on his cue.   
  
Elenia, dark hair swaying, stood, "Since Lead isn't here, I suppose it falls to the next highest ranking officer to proceed. However, since none of us _like _him -- " The squadron hissed in support while Mully threw bits of breakfast, with precision and dignity, at them all. Elenia gestured graciously to herself as she continued, " -- then I will take on the burden of introducing the newbies."  
  
She cleared her throat, "Now, you two have already unofficially met a few of us, so I suppose I should put some names to faces. I am Ensign Elenia Tuppins – Three. Quite possibly the only Core civilized one of our group.   
  
"Our illustrious card players from last night, and seemingly every night, are the noble Lieutenants Mully Averro and Fyvve Kal'aya and my darling partner in crime, Lieutenant Emitai Antilles."  
  
Emitai brushed a lock of dark hair from his face, "No relation."  
  
"To whom?" asked Tellan.  
  
"To anyone you know. If we're going to get through this, we can't have any more comments, children," Elenia chided. "Where was I? Card players, right!" She suddenly snapped her fingers at Tellan, "You may want to note that Mully is Five and Fyvve is Nine. Moving on, to the last of those who deigned to join us last night, we come to Four - Lieutenant Keir Neno - my favorite Duro ever."  
  
"You just love me for my body," replied Keir, around a mouthful of rubbery eggs.  
  
"It's true." She waved her hand carelessly at the sandy haired Illazar. "Lieutenant Illazar Dunixi, Seven, was also there, but he was somewhat less conscious than the rest of us, so you probably did not notice. So that leaves those few cards that you did not meet last night."  
  
"May I?" asked Savann, her thickly accented voice wrapped musically around the words. Elenia looked slightly put out as she sat down. Savann herself remained seated, but commanded attention nonetheless.  
  
"My name is Lieutenant Savann Kadru, Ten. It is unfortunate that I was out last night, I would have been glad to greet you both properly." She lifted a delicate hand toward Darius and Raaf, seated across from her, "I am sure that both Ensigns Darius Bes and Raaf Jagur agree with me."   
  
Darius winked toward Hurana, "Of course. By the way, I'm Eleven."  
  
"And I'm Twelve," chimed in Raaf. "Although, it occurs to me that I would have an easier time greeting you both if I actually knew your names."  
  
Savann raised a merry eyebrow in Elenia's direction, "Yes, it seems that in your eagerness you quite forgot to introduce _them_ to _us_."   
  
  
Elenia drew herself up with much aplomb, "I didn't forget, I was just saving the best for last. The newest additions to our family are -- " She broke off, turning to stare at Hurana and Tellan, "It now occurs _to me _that I don't know your names either."  
  
Fyvve sighed.  
  
Mully took the moment to retrieve what was rightly his duty. Additionally, as Tellan's roommate he was actually capable of executing it. He quickly did so, with almost prototypical blandness and efficiency. After the requisite teasing of his manner, the group quickly fell into discussion. Savann's new boyfriend was just the most adorable bridge officer; Raaf had dreamed an entirely new language and tried to replicate the writing with sauce on the table; Lead was doing _what _to the squadron Aethersprites?  
  
₪₪₪  
  
Anakin Skywalker arrived into the briefing only marginally late, with small grease spots on his cuffs. The room was the disorienting, windowless, boxy sort that could have been on any level of any ship. For that matter, it could have been on Coruscant. The plainness was supposed to allow them to give greater focus to battle strategy and understanding their orders. It made Anakin feel like he was in a conspiracy.  
  
The entire command structure of the battle group was strung around an oblong table. Admiral Channa stood at the end, leaning his hands on the table. His eyes were fixed on the holographic maps and battle plans that flickered before him. Obi-Wan, in an adjacent seat, examined the holos thoughtfully.  
  
Anakin took his seat farther down, next to the Commander of Stave Squadron.  
  
Admiral Channa cleared his throat, tapping his data pad to direct the holoprojector centered on the table to angle the holo-maps vertically, rather than in front of him. As thin spikes of light reshaped before them, casting their faces into hollows of blue and orange glow, the Admiral began.  
  
"This is Haluki 5 – one of the Separatists' primary sources of cubirian ore. Without these mines, the Separatists will lose twenty percent of their durasteel supply. They will be forced to rely on their less productive mines on systems outlying their territories. As a result, their foundries and shipyards will slow production."  
  
"Or they could turn to Af-El; they've made no pledge to the Republic," contradicted Obi-Wan.  
  
Captain Sellis of the _Endurance_ responded, "They could. And they could also pay the Af-El's exorbitant prices for meleenium."  
  
"And while we cannot trust that their greed will undo them," resumed the Admiral, "if the Separatists negotiate with Af-El to no effect on the pricing, a rift may be sown between the Mining Guild and the other members. And, ignoring hypotheticals, this attack is aimed at the Mining Guild. After we have taken Haluki, the matter of Af-El may never even occur if the Guild decides to cut its losses."  
  
He tapped on his datapad. The holomap refocused, homing in on the sketched lines of topography and townships to display a unit in the northwestern quadrant.  
  
"Data analyzed from Sabre Squadron's recent reconnaissance of Haluki 5 has given us this representation of their operation. As you can see, the mine is heavily guarded by Separatist droids and soldiers. Additionally, the local militia base intended to protect the mine," the outline of the base flashed white, "has been co-opted by Separatist forces. To take the cubirian mine, we will need to take both the base and the mine so that we do not face ground based reprisals."  
  
There was a long pause. Officers watched the holomap, as if waiting for it to play out their victory; read the data, more extensive and far less positive, stored in their data pads; Anakin watched the Admiral, trying not to touch the Force.  
  
"To this end, we will arrive in-system, 400,000km from Haluki 5, at 1700 hours. We will approach quickly, deploying fighters at 200,000km. Captains," he met their eyes individually, "you will deliver the clone troops to the planet, hover at the highlighted position 8km from the targets."   
  
The four captains tensed slightly. Anakin subdued his satisfaction; capital ships saw little fighting.  
  
"The fighter squadrons will provide additional cover and aerial support as you deploy and then they will return to high orbit to clear the weapons platforms."  
  
Anakin frowned, "That leaves the infantry unguarded."  
  
The Admiral shook his head, "Those platforms are a greater threat than any fighters Haluki may have, of which there is little evidence."  
  
The other officers nodded. Obi-Wan wore an expression of solemn acceptance. Anakin's jaw clenched.   
  
"General Kenobi, the brunt of the mission lies with you. We are expected heavy resistance, defending troops are estimated at 3,000 at the base and 2,000 within the more easily defensible mine. You are to take two divisions, on land and in gunships, to assault the mine and base simultaneously."  
  
The Admiral then rounded out the briefing with situational planetary hazards for Obi-Wan to be aware of, minutiae of accepting surrender and rendezvous coordinates, and the expected timeline for success.  
  
Anakin listened to the droning without hearing. Instead, he watched the holomap and, through the thin lasers, the Admiral. It was not in his heart he felt a constriction, but all over, leaving him with heavy bones that seemed to press everything hurtfully inward.  
  
And then there wasn't droning, only the sharpness of boots on durasteel and clatter of data pads against each other. The officers were clearing out, off to give their own briefings. Obi-Wan was slow gathering his things together. Anakin caught his eye and nodded him ahead.  
  
The holomap shut down. Fighting the surreality of the Admiral's sudden normal face, Anakin cut him off before reaching the door.  
  
"Commander Skywalker, do you have something you'd like to discuss?" Admiral Channa asked sardonically.  
  
"You're sending the army down there to die."  
  
The Admiral stared at him, "Perhaps you'd like to start again, this time with less melodrama?"  
  
Anakin gritted his teeth, "Of course, sir. Thank you, sir." He took a deep breath. _ You're a Jedi_, he reminded himself. _Remember the Code. There's something in there about being calm._ "Admiral, I don't think confining the fighter squadrons to non-atmospheric aerial support is advisable."  
  
"Why not? Your own recon does not place any hangers or fighters on Haluki."  
  
"I know, sir. But I think it's careless to relegate the squadrons to do little more than sit and wait out the battle. There's the possibility of hidden hangers that we couldn't have detected with a flyby. At the very least, an attack run against the droids would greatly help the ground troops," Anakin said in exasperation.  
  
"Commander, I know that you are young and passionate, but you are also naïve--"  
  
Anakin cut him off, "I am _not_ naïve."  
  
The Admiral's gray eyes watched him speculatively, "No. I don't suppose you are."   
  
"Sorry, sir."  
  
The Admiral appeared to make a decision, "You don't need to be. You're right. While I don't believe there are any 'hidden hangers', the infantry would be better served with you fighters clearing a path into the Separatists."  
  
"But?"  
  
"Pilots are worth more than clones."   
  


* * *

  
  
Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas, copyright Lucasfilm Ltd. Not for sale, no copyright infringement intended.   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Rally

  
"Anakin, calm down."   
  
The boy paced across the small space of his quarters, slapping his palm against the badly painted blue streak on the wall.  
  
Anakin glared at Obi-Wan, "Why?"  
  
Obi-Wan rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Because you have a duty and I have a duty and we will both serve. And I will not have you angry on my account."  
  
"It's not your duty! It's suicide!"  
  
"It is an informed command decision."  
  
Anakin crossed his arms, "It's willful blindness."  
  
Obi-Wan pressed his fingers into the sofa beneath him. The fabric was coarse and he could almost feel the grayness seeping into his skin, slipping between indefensible cells to taint his blood.  
  
"The Admiral has both seen your reconnaissance and heard your recommendation. You do have to admit neither has proof of air resistance."  
  
"That's not why he decided. He said that he agreed with me."  
  
"Anakin," Obi-Wan began again, softly this time, "his decision is not about this battle. You know that. Winning a war is not simply winning a battle – it is conserving resources so that the next may be won."  
  
Anakin broke eye contact, casting his bitter gaze toward the porthole, "And my pilots are more valuable resources than your clones. _Than you._"  
  
₪₪₪  
  
It was an uncomfortable feeling, filling the place of another. At breakfast, even between jests and fork duels, Hurana caught confused glances, raw startlement. Their eyes kept trying to skip over her, kept trying to believe she was familiar, and failing. She wasn't familiar. She wasn't Carya.  
  
Nor was she Herys, nor Wesson, nor Saff, nor Fentin.  
  
She wasn't a single one of the pilots that she'd ever replaced and she hated it. Her file was filled with the names of squadrons she'd been in. And she took that to be a very literal, very insular sense of 'in'. Inside of, so deeply inside she fit into the space left by another, not visible except by the gap around her – visible only in that which she wasn't.   
  
Nonetheless, almost against her will, she began envision herself fitting into her own Hurana shaped space in the squadron. She could see herself joking with Elenia and Keir and Emitai; debating with Darius and Savann; fighting with Raaf. And from all their talk, she was beginning to see herself following Anakin.  
  
Still, she worried.  
  
"Can we talk for a moment?" she asked, snagging Tellan's sleeve as the group walked to the lounge.  
  
He nodded politely, and she drew him to the side of the corridor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fyvve raise a bifurcated eyebrow and poke Illazar as they passed.  
  
"I just wanted to say that I'm glad you haven't said anything. I really want this to work out and to do it with a clean slate. My history, especially with Commander Skywalker, is not going to be my future. You've probably been wondering about what all that was yesterday, and I probably owe you an explanation – you and everyone else, but --"  
  
"I wasn't."  
  
Hurana stopped her rambling, "What?"  
  
"I wasn't wondering," he added, respectfully.  
  
"Oh. Well," Hurana attempted to compose herself, "thank you and . . . thank you."  
  
Tellan nodded and they made the rest of their way into the lounge in silence – confused silence on Hurana's part. Hurana noted that the Sabres had happily sprawled, leaned, and sat on nearly all available surfaces. Darius invited her to sit on his lap. She declined, opting instead to balance on the arm of the couch. Tellan stood by the table, watching the sabacc game with mild interest.  
  
Hurana watched holochannels flip past at alarming rate for some time before Keir dove at Elenia, wrestling the remote away. Then for a brief, but comfortable, time the group gathered near the holovid watched an intriguing documentary on the tunneling instincts of Toydarian voles. Finally, when Elenia's scheming expression passed into the realm of over-acting, she pounced.   
  
Thus engaged, with all of the squadron variously watching, betting, or taking bets on the ensuing wrestling match, that no one heard the door whoosh itself open and closed with it's typical alarming speed. However, nearly everyone noticed as Commander Skywalker stalked across the room.  
  
Elenia and Keir noticed when the holovid flicked off and the remote flew unceremoniously from their grappling hands.   
  
The pair quickly righted themselves and stood, bowing at the waist, "Sir."  
  
Commander Skywalker didn't seem to see them. He was in motion again, long stride taking him to stand next to where the holos were projected.  
  
"This is important."  
  
There was a quiet rush of sound, and suddenly a very professional squadron was assembled, facing the Commander attentively.  
  
He pressed a button on the remote; a holo of a planet appeared. "This is Haluki 5, which most of you remember from our surveillance and reconnaissance mission a few days ago. The Admiral has since analyzed that data and formulated a battle plan. This time it's the full deck going.  
  
"We will launch and then escort the assault ships to the northwestern quadrant. While they deploy troops, we will attack the orbital attack platforms." The holo assembled a menacing looking space station. Commander Skywalker's eyes shifted to watch. "The platforms are Monnen II Defense Capsules. They are not equipped with either heavy arms or crew. Instead, they are each armed with 20 high powered batteries of turbolasers. They are unshielded and instead plated with dense ditanium. This makes the turbolaser embankments themselves the best targets, since they protrude from the armor.  
  
"Coin Squadron will hit the platform at 3405.78, Flask and Stave at 3403.5. And a platform of our very own is located at 3406.93."  
  
Mully raised his hand slightly, frowning, "That isn't a very wide distribution pattern."  
  
"No, it isn't. Those platforms are pretty old. Gravity and incorrect calculations have taken their toll."  
  
Commander Skywalker frowned at the displayed, his jaw clenched. "After the platforms are destroyed we have orders to remain in high orbit and await the return of the _Queen_."  
  
The squadron shifted uncomfortably. Fyvve asked for all of them, "Sir?"  
  
His vivid blue eyes flashed as he turned to them, "But what I'm going to do is cover the infantry assault. We will arrive in-system at 1700. Be in the hanger by 1630."  
  
Commander Skywalker, eyes blazing, walked to Elenia and gently pressed the remote into her hand. And walked out of the lounge.   
  
The room blinked. It was somewhat awkward.   
  
Hurana leaned into Savann and asked, "So . . . what did he mean 'the full deck'?"  
  
Savann looked at her, askance, "You mean you haven't noticed, yet?" Hurana shook her head. "There was a big ceremony about six months ago where this battle group was christened. They let Senator Garm Bel Iblis name everything, even the squadrons, as a public relations stunt. And in a fit of space dementia, he named everything with a sabacc-theme."   
  
"The Sabres . . . the Coins, the Flasks, and the Staves."  
  
"The _Queen of Air_, _the Queen of Darkness_, the _Endurance_, and the _Balance_. Thus, the full deck."  
  
"You know," started Raaf, "since Lead is considering disobeying direct orders, I don't really think this is the best time to rehash our not-so illustrious past."  
  
Emitai furrowed his brow, "Actually, it probably is."  
  
Fyvve shifted her chair back to the sabacc table, picking up her cards, "And I don't think His Lordship is considering. He's decided."  
  
"So, I'll bet you two didn't know you were signing on for possible courts-martial," said Elenia cheerfully.  
  
Raaf snapped, "They didn't sign on for anything."  
  
Hurana was silent, neck straining to see all the players in the argument. Tellan wore a typically impassive expression.  
  
Mully, sliding a card from his sleeve, added smoothly, "Especially since Lead doesn't want us coming."  
  
Elenia's smile faltered, "W-what?"  
  
"He gave us no orders except those he's disobeying, he didn't explain why he's disobeying, and he never asked us to join him," explained Mully rationally.  
  
"Why is he doing it?" asked Tellan.  
  
"He thinks the infantry needs protection," replied Fyvve.  
  
"As well," Savann considered, "his old Jedi Master is down there."  
  
Raaf rolled his eyes, "Aw, Lead's such a good kid."  
  
Savann's eyes narrowed, "Don't."  
  
Raaf shrugged, settling back into the couch. Savann flexed her fingers at him meaningfully. The manicured nails shone in the harsh, industrial light. Elenia joined in the act, glaring at him.  
  
Keir put a hand on Elenia's arm, "You know this is why he didn't ask us."   
  
Raaf mumbled something about giving Commander Skywalker too much credit. To Hurana's surprise, she saw both Fyvve and Mully nod along with the assessment.  
  
Elenia jerked away from Keir's touch, "I don't care." She stood, "I'm going with him."  
  
She stalked out of the room, much the way Commander Skywalker had entered. Ten sets of eyes watched her go. The boom as the door connected with the floor seemed louder than usual.  
  
A low whistle split the tense tableau. Hurana turned her eyes again to Raaf. He chuckled, "That girl does have it bad."  
  
This time, Savann _did_ slap him.  
  
However, Hurana thought he was right about one thing: she hadn't signed on for this.  
  
₪₪₪  
  
There were no force fields in the galaxy that could withstand the warp and pressure of hyperspace. Anakin knew this – he was facing the blank, dull durasteel sheet that separated him from the buffeting of the space beneath space. Even in a cockpit shielding would cover the transparasteel ports. He'd never seen hyperspace, the starlines and then whorls of . . . whatever it was, on anything but a viewscreen.  
  
No one else had, of course, but that did make Anakin stop wishing the hanger door would open just the slightest crack and show him.  
  
Even with the distortion of the force field, he sometimes found the stars too bright, like hard pins of light. With atmosphere between him and them, he could and had in the past stared for hours. Space made them too harsh. He still wondered what hyperspace would do.  
  
He was stalling.  
  
Shaking away his diverted thoughts, Anakin ran hands over the controls of his Aethsprite – more a meditation than a check. He knew every switch and modified knob in the cockpit. It was him, after all. But he liked the feel, even beneath the mass of wire and polymer that was his right hand. Possibly more with that hand. As disconnected as it was from him, it was more connected with the ship than his flesh could ever be.  
  
He was still stalling.  
  
He closed his eyes, meditating in truth. He stretched his senses toward Haluki 5. There was the faint hum of productivity, of fear. And of danger. Threads of danger tangled around the planet, bearing along the line laid by fear. He stretched further, trying to find the focus of the danger. The threads tightened, encapsulating the people he sensed, the base, the future there.  
  
Which was pretty much useless.  
  
Anakin expelled an irritated breath. He wanted something specific, something to justify his actions. He didn't need the Force telling him that the battle was going to be dangerous.  
  
He opened his eyes, staring once more toward the hanger door.  
  
It was several minutes before he broke his stare, footsteps interrupting his determined attention.  
  
Elenia was the first to enter, but she wasn't the last.  
  
He suppressed a growl at the sight, and jumped from the cockpit.  
  
"I said 1630."  
  
Elenia lifted her chin, looking up at him resolutely, "We thought we should come earlier to plan our planetary assault."  
  
"You aren't coming."  
  
"Actually, we are."  
  
"Even you can't handle covering two simultaneous attacks on separate locations. Especially if they have uncharted air support," added Mully.  
  
"You still aren't coming."  
  
"Sir, it's not as though we're asking to destroy ourselves with you," Fyvve reminded him.  
  
Anakin's eyes widened.   
  
"If I destroy myself, you definitely don't get to come," he snapped.  
  
Fyvve sighed, "That wasn't at all what I meant, sir."  
  
Anakin flung an arm toward the hanger door, "I'm disobeying and endangering myself. _Not you._ I'm not going to watch you die for my reasons and I'm not going to let you ruin your careers."  
  
"Sir, are you done being over-dramatic?" asked Keir with concern.  
  
Emitai, and a few others, snorted, "He's _never_ done being over-dramatic."  
  


* * *

  
Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas, copyright Lucasfilm Ltd. Not for sale, no copyright infringement intended.   
  
  



	4. Fight

  
Space hung around them like a veil. Clear and soft, it hid their intentions in stillness.  
  
The squadrons split into their formations, diving away from each other like the points of a compass. Lingering by the side of the _Queen of Air_, Elenia saw few of her fellow Sabres. They were to her back, to her far side – across or under the assault ship. In the distance she could see tiny blue-lit engines of the other cards as they protected their own ships.  
  
Haluki 5 was before her as they fell into its gravity. The holos made it look orange, but it was a steel color. Seen through the blue aura of atmosphere patches of green almost looked like overgrown ponds.  
  
The blue became fainter, and then transparent as they entered high orbit.  
  
That was her cue.  
  
She drifted easily to port. The orbital platform came into view.  
  
Lead's voice crackled through the comm, "Keep it busy."  
  
Elenia circled around, putting a decent angular distance between her and the platform. She throttled into a dive, fingers itching to pull the trigger. She waited. They all had their tricks and this was as good a time as any to practice hers.  
  
She adjusted the shallowness of her angle, allowing herself to dive past the capsule, toward the atmosphere. Before she hit, she leveled and cut the engines – bouncing off the very thin air with her shields. Elenia came at the platform from beneath, which was admittedly where most of the guns were.  
  
"Did those mods hold, Three?" asked Emitai.  
  
She grinned, "Roger, Six. Worked like a charm, my favorite trick did."  
  
She didn't have too long to gloat; the automated guns had been activated and she was hurtling toward them. _Firing would be advisable._ Elenia took her own advice, letting loose pulses of laser fire at the gun embankment.  
  
The platform returned fire. She jinked starboard, arcing through flashes of red as the guns tracked her. She dodged back from its range, lurking in the relative safe zone between the angular ranges of two sets of guns.  
  
"Nice to see you again," wheezed Keir, hovering nearby. "You're insane. You know that, right?"  
  
"The guns are the weak point in the armor," she retorted.  
  
"Like I said, insane."  
  
Lead's modified Aethersprite streaked past, splashing red laser fire on the shell of the platform. He dove underneath, path swerving and dodging like a nervous waveform. Elenia saw lines between plates light up hotly in his aftermath.  
  
"Ten, Eleven, Twelve – form up for an attack run," commanded Fyvve's voice.  
  
Elenia didn't see them nearby; they were on the other side. The _Queen_] was preparing to launch the gunships and landers. Not much longer then before they could begin their attack in earnest.  
  
Fyvve's squad outlined the capsule in bright fire. Elenia squinted against it until her astromech adjusted the opacity of her canopy.  
  
"Thanks, R8."  
  
It beeped humbly in response.  
  
She commed Keir, "So, Four, wanna go again?"  
  
"Not the way you do."  
  
She dove anyway, wheedling into her mike as she did so, "You _know_ you want to . . ."  
  
Keir swore and followed her.  
  
She again targeted the guns as she swooped past. The guns followed her movements; she was too busy dodging to get any hits in. Keir tailed her, his own fire splashing against the gun turret.   
  
It glowed briefly before the coolants dispersed the heat.  
  
Elenia laughed as they flew to another safe zone, "That's team work, that is."  
  
A few other Sabres idled next to them. Elenia eyed the fighters, waiting for the inevitable "cut the chatter" command. Instead, Lead informed them, "Troop deployment is over. Looks like our escort service is closed for business."  
  
There were a few wry snickers as they reformed into their squads. Sidling her 'sprite up beside Lead's, she asked, "So what's the plan, Master?"   
  
There was a staticky pause, "We move together. Target the guns and the seams between the plates – they're thin, but you can see them if you look. Break it apart. Make it overheat."  
  
Guns blazing, they went back in. Elenia followed Lead's trail, hitting the bright spots his lasers opened up. She knew Keir was doing the same behind her, and Hurana behind him.  
  
Space seemed baked with laser fire. Fyvve's squad soared down and around Elenia's 'sprite and she swore she felt a shudder. An explosion seared the top of the capsule as she came over it – Mully's squad arced from it. The squads ringed the capsule like crashing satellites.  
  
She kept squeezing the trigger. A bright flash scored above her canopy. She dipped down. A laser gazed her underside. She rolled away and back, juked down and then up and then spiraled down. The gun before her was red and then white. It exploded before her eyes.  
  
"Back off!"  
  
For a moment she thought it was a reprimand. Then she saw the seams of the platform glow white. Lead's 'sprite tumbled past hers, falling toward the planet. She joined him in a controlled dive.  
  
"R8, shade to maximum!"  
  
The platform exploded vividly against the stars as she fell, orange and yellow licking toward the circle of the sky.  
  
₪₪₪  
  
Tellan watched an intricately painted Aethersprite arc away from the explosion through the dimness of his canopy, not entirely aware what he was witnessing. Then he saw other Aethersprites behind it, wings cutting lines through the air, and he remembered.   
  
One pilot pulled away from beside him. He hadn't expected that.  
  
When the Aethersprites were out of visual range, following a curved path to just beyond the target sites, only half of the squadron remained. Tellan wasn't sure who – he had lost track of that in the battle. And he hadn't particularly distinguished between them before the battle either.  
  
A voice hissed at him from the comm, "This is Flask Leader. You Sabres need a little help out there?"  
  
"Negative, Flask. We finished it off," replied Lieutenant Kadru's cultured tones.  
  
"On our own," cut in Ensign Jagur.  
  
He knew two who had stayed now. The Ensign was no surprise, considering the scene he'd made. Tellan would not have suspected Lieutenant Kadru, however. She had seemed on Ensign Tuppins' side.  
  
"Hey, just wondering why you were lazing around down there," replied Flask Leader.  
  
They hadn't noticed. Nor had Tellan, to be truthful. At once the squadron wakened themselves and turned their noses from the paths their fellows had followed. They accelerated to the tier of space the other squadrons occupied.  
  
It was not that Tellan did not understand. He had seen this impetuousness of spirit in others, and a number of holovids. He had also seen their irreverence and silly hijinks and he knew, admittedly more from the vids than the people, that it was a defense mechanism.  
  
But it was not his.  
  
In the mean time, it seemed the Coins were trying to recruit his squadron into a game of Maro Volo.  
  
₪₪₪  
  
Anakin could see lines of white armor along the horizon, closing on their target. They were highlighted against the gray planetary soil. Still, he adjusted his course. If he could see them, they might see him.  
  
They were arcing wide around both the stage of the attack and the targeted locations. Toward where Anakin hoped the droid controls had been laid.  
  
"Hey, Master," started Elenia and he really did try not to tense at the title, "the battle's over there."  
  
Anakin felt a momentary pang of regret. Maybe he should have spent the extra time with them explaining his plan rather than arguing with them.  
  
"We're not going to the battle, Three." He ignored the whirr of relief from his astromech. "We're trying to stop it. Look for protrusions from the landscape. Anything that doesn't quite look like it belongs, it could be the droid control center."  
  
Understandably, after the Battle of Naboo, the Trade Federation had become interested in decentralizing the often-targeted control centers of the droids – removing them from the ships their crews manned. In the early days of the Clone War, this plan had manifested in small orbital stations like that which the Sabres had just nicely exploded. However, since permanent outposts had been established, the risk of proclaiming a droid army to visitors by leaving the control in orbit had become too high.   
His pilots took his orders to heart; Anakin watched as several indecently shaped pillars of rock were summarily strafed and destroyed. For his part he watched for the more likely depressions of earth and set R10 to scan for unusual energy signatures.  
  
He flew lower, hugging the contours of the surface, and barrel rolled for a better look.  
  
Upright again, he was in the midst of melting a suspicious patch of dirt when his comm crackled.  
  
"Milord," started Fyvve, with some shock, "I don't think those belong."  
  
He snapped his attention forward – toward the battle site. Before him, nearly hidden in gray shades that blended with the dull steel of the soil, lay an armada of Separatist ships.  
  
Anakin swore colorfully in Huttese.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Anakin flipped the comm to all ships, "We've got trouble down here. Capital ships. Sector 24, lat 45.22 long 95.18."  
  
There was a buzz of shock over the comm But Anakin didn't have the time. Snub fighters were spilling from the ship bays.   
  
The fighters were small, little more than an engine and a gun, and not particularly equipped for atmospheric combat. Separatist tactics usually relied on numbers rather than any sort of skill.  
  
Anakin accelerated into the black cloud of fighters. The other squadrons would arrive soon, but he needed to keep as many Separatist fighters from the army as he could.  
  
₪₪₪  
  
It was already a pitched battle when Obi-Wan heard Anakin's warning on the gunship comm. His lieutenant had checked in from the mine; ricochet and tight spaces were making for slow going. On the ground beneath him, Obi-Wan's clones were fighting apace with expectations, but that encouraged him no more than death ever did.  
  
When Obi-Wan heard Anakin's words, his very first thought was, _What in blazes are you doing in Sector 24?_ But that was swiftly followed by disheartening realization, _You were right._  
  
In the distance he could see flashes of laser fire. He could only imagine the destruction his former Padawan was wreaking on the automated fighters. Despite himself, he smiled slightly. There was nothing Anakin hated more than machines flying by themselves.  
  
Then he saw the fighters that got past Anakin streaking toward his troops.  
  
"Pilot, evasive maneuvers." He needn't have worried about his gunship; the fighters targeted the land troops. "Shoot them down," he corrected himself, even as he knew that a gunship was no match for the speed or agility of a small fighter.  
  
He could only watch as his troops were strafed.  
  
₪₪₪  
  
With the full assembly of squadrons, the automated fighters became easy work, but Anakin was not surprised when he heard the order for retreat.  
  
The Sabres broke off to cover the troops as they fled to their transports. They had to move quickly, before the Separatist ships mobilized and launched.   
  
As Anakin watched the first transports lift off for their own capital ships, maintaining relatively low altitude nearby, Flask Leader's voice came over his comm.  
  
"How'd you know, Skywalker?"  
  
_I didn't_, Anakin frowned to himself  
  


* * *

  
Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas, copyright Lucasfilm Ltd. Not for sale, no copyright infringement intended.   
  
  



	5. Cool Down

  
Obi-Wan had never seen Admiral Channa look so angry. He sighed, and began again, this time trying not to allow the Admiral's feelings to aggravate his own, "Anakin has no need to defend himself."  
  
The Admiral glared at him through sunken eyes, "Your Padawan defied direct, _Senate mandated_ orders."  
  
"His is not a Padawan any longer, but a Knight. And through his defiance he saved us all."  
  
Captain Fein of the _Queen of Darkness_ cut in sarcastically, "Yes, I'm sure you're very proud."  
  
He was right, of course. Obi-Wan was proud – in that special way that mixed just so with anger and exasperation that only Anakin seemed capable of earning.  
  
"What I want to know," began the Captain Sellis of the _Endurance_, "is how he knew to disobey orders."  
  
Obi-Wan bit his tongue, _It's Anakin. He always 'knows' to disobey orders._ Instead, he said, "Knight Skywalker has always demonstrated exceptional intuitive abilities. If you'll recall, he tried to share this with you before the battle."  
  
"He said nothing about landed capital ships to me, General," corrected Admiral Channa shortly.  
  
"Intuition is rarely that specific," Obi-Wan snapped back.  
  
"But the location was, and Skywalker found it rather quickly," started Fein. "He was already out there once before us. We've only got his word, and the word of his extremely loyal squadron, that they did nothing but reconnaissance. Skilled Jedi that he is, he may have communicated with the Separatists and then covered his trail. Wasn't Count Dooku once a Jedi?"  
  
Obi-Wan ignored the bait, "To what end?"  
  
Fein shrugged, "Treason, of course. With the side benefit of being proclaimed a hero."  
  
₪₪₪  
  
Hurana felt sick. It was dizzying, walking back into the lounge as though the past six hours had never happened. It was the same room, but it seemed bigger, brighter, harsher. Everyone was positioned as usual, but she noted a subtle division between those who had followed Anakin and those who stayed back. The sabacc table was fuller than usual.  
  
Fyvve, perhaps noticing her distress, perhaps continuing with her 'welcoming roommate' charade, took her by the elbow. It was neither, Hurana decided when Fyvve leaned up to whisper in her ear.  
  
"We're trying to keep Lead distracted."  
  
_Just more conspiring._ Hurana swallowed past the lump in her throat, whispering back, "It's typical. Save everyone, get a free court-martial."  
  
Fyvve looked at her seriously, "That will _not_ happen."  
  
Hurana did not know where she got that faith from, but it buoyed her spirits. Fyvve pulled up an extra chair to the table, and they both sat down. Hurana was not quite sure what she had done to deserve inclusion.  
  
Trying to lighten the atmosphere, as per the suggestion, Hurana asked, "So who's winning?"  
  
"I believe Captain Fein is," responded Commander Skywalker, without looking up. "However, the last Obi-Wan told me he'd got them on the run, worrying them about the Separatists following us to complete their rout. Don't worry, if Fein wins you can all just say I mind tricked you."  
  
"That isn't funny," growled Elenia.   
  
Commander Skywalker feigned contemplation, "Not funny, but certainly you have to admit it's ironic."  
  
Elenia's face contorted into a scowl. She slammed her cards onto the table, "I fold."   
  
"Sir, aren't you concerned?" asked Fyvve.  
  
This time the Commander did look up from what he was doing – some sort of painting – to smile wryly, "Lieutenant, you have absolutely no idea how many disciplinary hearings I've had. But, yeah, I'm worried. I'm just really good at hiding my feelings."  
  
"A Jedi trait," quipped Emitai.  
  
The Commander nodded at him, absently.  
  
The round concluded – Mully crowed and showed off his Fool's Array. Insults and debris were tossed at him as he collected his winnings. Fyvve picked up the cards and started shuffling. Noticing this, the Commander set down his notebook. Hurana tilted her head; a flood of black ink outlined the delicate features of a woman, paper white and pale in innocence.  
  
Elenia was peering at the portrait as well. Her bright dark eyes look up at the Commander, "Who is she?"  
  
Emitai shook his head at her slightly, his friendly features cautioning. It didn't matter. Commander Skywalker ignored them both. He closed the notebook abruptly.  
  
"Deal me in."  
  
"Sir, if I recall correctly, you aren't allowed to play sabacc, anymore," reminded Fyvve.  
  
"I'll be good," he promised, trying on an innocent look. It wasn't very convincing.  
  
The other players looked horrified, "No!"  
  
But the light, distracting atmosphere was brittle. No one spoke, careful not to break it. Someone not at the table flicked on the holovid. Comforting documentary noise filled the silence.  
  
Hurana tried humorous confusion, "Does he . . . you know?" She made a 'concentration face' and wiggled her fingers next to her eyes.   
  
Commander Skywalker frowned, " . . . have seizures?"  
  
She put her hands down, "I meant read minds."  
  
"Ohhhhh," went the group, Commander included. The room went quiet again. The narrator talked about the Toydarian voles.  
  
"No," replied Fyvve, with inappropriate determination. "He counts cards."  
  
"I can't help it," the Commander protested.  
  
"That's true," Elenia smiled. "Like a machine, he is."  
  
Commander Skywalker's eyes drifted slightly toward his right arm. He smiled stiffly at the joke.  
  
Hurana picked up the cards she had been dealt. Fyvve hesitated as she came to the Commander. He smiled ingenuously.  
  
"How is my card counting any worse than what the rest of you do?"  
  
Mully studied his cards, "He has a point."  
  
Emitai scoffed, "Logic is not a party to this game."  
  
Fyvve gave in, dealing to Commander Skywalker. She finished dealing and picked up her own cards. The harshness of the room seemed to ease slightly with something to focus on. Hurana picked up her last two. One of Coins, Two of Coins, Six of Flasks, and Bounty Hunter. _Eighteen, not bad._  
  
Betting went around the table, each pilot tossing in music discs, memory chits, ration bars – things of minor worth on the ship and no where else. Hurana dug around in her pocket for something. She plunked a hydrospanner head into the middle of the kitty. Commander Skywalker eyed it covetously.  
  
Fyvve flicked at her cards with her claws, "So what's your past with our Lord, Hurana?"  
  
Hurana focused on her cards, "I thought you'd get around to bringing that up. The Commander and I go way back."  
  
"We flew together when we were kids," Commander Skywalker added. Hurana looked over at him, trying to get a read. Either he was amused with the question or his cards.  
  
"We raced. I beat the school-issued trousers off of him," Hurana lied, waiting for a response.  
  
The Commander glared at her, "First you try to kill me, now you slander me."  
  
The card players stared. Fyvve smiled happily to herself, "Shift!"  
  
Hurana laid down a card at random. "I thought you said it didn't matter."  
  
Emitai chuckled, "Looks like there's a story here."   
  
Commander Skywalker's gaze shifted away from Hurana. His expression was tense, "Hurana here met me while I was on a mission as a Padawan."  
  
Elenia and Emitai exchanged a look. Keir set his cards down without even looking at the shifted one. Even Fyvve looked interested. Hurana heard movement behind her from the excluded pilots, presumably relocating to listen. Apparently the Commander didn't talk about his Padawan days.  
  
Hurana picked up the tale with a sigh, "I was involved with a not-so-legal group in an elite school. We took jobs, thefts, bombings, air strikes – that sort of thing. Commander Skywalker infiltrated and we set him up to die."  
  
He lifted his scarred eyebrow at her, "And that was before they knew I was a Jedi."  
  
She smiled ruefully, "We were fools."  
  
"I believed what you believed," he said quietly, echoing words from the past. "Out of curiosity, do you know what eventually happened to the others?"   
  
Something occurred to her. "I did," she started, "and maybe I'll tell you if you tell me why you were in so much trouble with the other Jedi."  
  
"No."  
  
She swallowed, deflated, "Well, after the tensest hyperspace flight of my life we became the terrors of juvenile detention hall for a bit. I calmed down. They didn't. I remember hearing Marit escaped, but I was working off my sentence in a school by then."  
  
The Commander looked sad to hear it. Hurana remembered that Marit had been his contact. "I guess you were the strongest of them."  
  
"Hey! Are we playing sabacc here or not?" asked Elenia, trying to break up the touching moment.  
  
_We're not, to be honest._ Fyvve had effectively distracted them all from the game. They'd all bet at least once without realizing what they were doing.  
  
Keir took a look at his neglected cards. He shrugged, "Call."  
  
Hurana picked up her cards. And swore. Her Six of Flasks had been replaced by a Lord of the Sith.  
  
"I'm bombed out," she said, showing the group her cards.  
  
They went around the table, no one had much of anything, except Fyvve. She had a decent showing – total score 21. Commander Skywalker played coyly with his cards, hiding them. Fyvve glared at him.  
  
He laid out his cards: Jedi Knight, Jedi Master, Four of Sabres, Six of Sabres. A Jedi Array.  
  
He smiled, "Fitting, isn't it?"  
  
Elenia shook her finger at him, "This is why you don't get to play. You always cheat!"   
  
The Commander watched them impassively, "I did not. I'm just very lucky."  
  
The sound of emergency klaxons suddenly split the air. The sabacc table and its petty prizes were abandoned as they jogged to the hanger.  
  
Hurana, falling behind the Commander's long stride quickly, muttered, "I don't think I like your kind of luck."  
  


* * *

  
Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas, copyright Lucasfilm Ltd. Not for sale, no copyright infringement intended.   
  
  



	6. Consequences

  
  
The perils of space forced the Sabres back into a sort of unity. Savann was relieved for the battle in that sense. The presence of her squadron mates beside her in the vast hollow of space, defending her against death as she defended them, made her feel safer than their expressions and words could. The plated metal 'sprites were their true faces and the wash of red lasers were their true words.  
  
She had been somewhat worried, after the eerie cloister of the lounge that she would forget this and see only the separation between them. Her reason for her position was valid, she knew. Commander Skywalker's decision was his business, and not her own. That was inviolable.  
  
But that wasn't the battle and she needed to focus.  
  
Even before launching from the hanger it was obvious to all the Sabres what had happened. If ambush on the planet was meant to be a slaughter, the two ships and swarm of snub fighters that had intercepted their retreat at the first hyperspace recalculation point were meant to be the clean up.  
  
Luckily, the slaughter never happened.  
  
The four squadrons of the deck screamed happily into the battle, intent on melting the automated fighters to slag. Savann slid her fighter between streams laser bolts. A smooth pull on the stick kicked her fighter through a spin. She pulled up, tracking a fighter.  
  
As it exploded, the _Queen of Air_ flew through the upper portion of the battle, relative to Savann. Automated fighters exploded against its bow as it made for the Separatist capital ships.  
  
Debris scattered toward the pilots. Savann dodged, but she saw pieces spark against automated fighters and fellow pilots alike. There was a small explosion. _Such frail little machines_, Savann mused.  
  
Though she considered herself to be a pacifist in most senses, Savann had little trouble acknowledging the glee with which she dispatched the fighters. It was a sentiment echoed by her squadronmates as they whooped and cheered in the comm.  
  
She hit one fighter and then another in quick succession. Nearby a pair of pilots, Darius and Mully to judge from style, coordinated explosions, shrapnel fragmentation, and laser fire to result in a cascade of destruction that flared white into the darkness. Commander Skywalker, playing vicious and close, streaked through lines of ash and fire in his blue-striped fighter.  
  
_This really isn't fair, at all._  
  
The automated fighters, unsurprisingly, began to thin. Savann thought she glimpsed 'sprites – _the Coins?_ – break through to the enemy capital ships.  
  
Bright circles lit along the side of the Separatist ships. She dove around a Sabre, sling-shoting into a pair of fighters. She fired as they accelerated hopelessly into her. Fire wreathed her as they exploded, moments before she would have impacted.  
  
On the other side was . . . very little. She looked around, hungry for another target.  
  
This time the battle group made short work of their ambusher.  
  
₪₪₪  
  
Anakin grinned ferally up at Obi-Wan, "I feel much better now."  
  
Obi-Wan subdued a smile, "I admit, even I found that bout of destruction cathartic."  
  
"And you didn't even participate."  
  
They were cluttering the main corridor that led to the bridge, and incidentally, the room where the Admiral was deciding Anakin's fate. Obi-Wan, repeatedly faced emissaries of various data who would quite like to enjoy passage around him kept moving to and fro in the tight hall way. It was a dance that looked neither dignified nor Jedi-like.  
  
Anakin was positioned less accommodatingly, seated on the floor with his legs stretched out before him. Steel soil from Haluki 5, while unsuccessful in adding life to the gray durasteel floor, clung to the underside of his uniform trousers. He wasn't bothered. He had, after all, blown up many, many fighters.  
  
"What do you think would have happened if I hadn't disobeyed?"  
  
"Possibly, we all would have died," responded Obi-Wan soberly.  
  
Anakin shook his head, "Not the pilots, though."  
  
"I don't know about that, Anakin. The pilots were ordered to hold back, true, but if the Separatists had been able to strike as they wished the infantry would have been destroyed and both the pilots and the fleet would have had little warning before the assault turned on them."  
  
Anakin calmed some at Obi-Wan's words, "Do you believe there really is a traitor then?"  
  
"There must be," he said slowly. "This second assault would not have taken place otherwise."  
  
Anakin opened his mouth to speculate, but cut himself off. The Force sense emanating from the bridge area shifted. The Admiral had decided.  
  
Obi-Wan offered Anakin a hand, pulling him up. Anakin dusted himself off slightly; Obi-Wan let yet another datapad bearing trooper through. He straightened his uniform.  
  
By the time Admiral Channa stood before them, the pair was quite presentable. The Admiral eyed their efficient bows suspiciously, wondering if they had been standing at attention during his hour-long deliberation.   
  
"Commander Skywalker, in light of the sub-nuclear slag floating past us that you heated not two hours ago, I have been forced to reconsider my initial – and very negative – perception of your actions on Haluki 5." Despite the words, the Admiral's expression was unforgiving.   
  
"You were reckless and foolish to disobey orders without provocation, of that I have no doubt. The Senate decreed these guidelines to insure our eventual victory and protect officers like you specifically, and if for no other reason than that your actions are questionable."  
  
_The Senate?_ Anakin's eyes shot involuntarily to Obi-Wan's. The older Jedi nodded imperceptibly. The Admiral ignored them both, continuing to delineate how wrong Anakin had been. He didn't hear.  
  
_Padmé is not the Senate. She didn't vote for it. She couldn't – not even to protect me._ Obi-Wan sensed his distressed, and probed his feelings lightly. Anakin felt further sickened by his concern, but mustered the strength to mask his feelings. _No, it wasn't just about protecting Obi-Wan_, he argued.  
  
Yet the implication still worried him. More accurately, it angered him. The Senate was mandating military strategy and this was the result. Was the traitor in the Senate? Or were the orders the result of sheer incompetence?  
  
"But," said Admiral Channa sharply, drawing Anakin from his turmoil, "you know that I didn't bring you here to discuss the philosophy behind our strategy. Given the results, your infraction would hardly be of note if there had not been such coincidentally good results."  
  
Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to calm.  
  
"And if you had known the pre-charted escape route and hyperspace drop points, I would be forced to believe it was more than coincidence." He sounded disappointed; Anakin bit down harder.  
  
The Admiral remained before them, deciding whether to add anything further. Finally, he shook his head to himself and walked away in a clipped stride. The door to the bridge snapped down.  
  
"And I was starting to like it here," murmured Anakin, eyes fixed on the door.   
  
"I hardly expected such coldness from him."  
  
Anakin folded his hands in front of him. He watched as his thumb grazed the cuff on his uniform; he found himself wishing for the voluminous sleeves of his cloak to hide his hands in. He remembered the warmth in the Admiral's eyes as he declared Anakin 'not-naïve.'  
  
"I broke his confidence."  
  
Anakin felt Obi-Wan's gaze on him. He did not feel ready to meet it. "I feel that you did what was right. It's true that you trusted yourself rather than his orders, but in doing so you trusted the Force. I cannot say I'm unhappy to see that you are learning through your own stubbornness lessons that I could never teach you."  
  
He did look up then, basking in how Obi-Wan's rueful smile crinkled his eyes. He'd give the old man wrinkles yet.  
  
"And, although I may find myself brought up on charges for saying so," he continued, "I think that it is appropriate that you have remembered that you are not merely _a_ Jedi, but _of_ the Jedi – and that you are such before you are an officer."  
  
"So you figured it out," Anakin sighed.  
  
"That it wasn't just about me? I thought that was obvious."   
  
Anakin bit his lip, meeting his mentor's powerful gaze with hurt and doubt in his own eyes, "Just tell me they aren't slaves."  
  


* * *

  
Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas, copyright Lucasfilm Ltd. Not for sale, no copyright infringement intended.   
  
  



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